


On Open Wings

by chaosandmemory



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU: everyone has wings, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Reunion, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-16 00:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13624560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosandmemory/pseuds/chaosandmemory
Summary: Bucky crouched in his snipers rest, motionless, wings curved and feathers puffed in a patchwork of ragged black and crisp-edged red-brown and tan and white.  The silver of his wing-claws and his left hand glinted in the shadows, and his face was pale through the tangle of dark hair."Bucky," Steve breathed.  He moved forward one step, then two into the vast open space of warehouse, hands open and wings tight against his back.  He swallowed, mouth dry.  "Been looking for you."





	On Open Wings

Bucky crouched in his snipers rest, motionless, wings curved and feathers puffed in a patchwork of ragged black and crisp-edged red-brown and tan and white. The silver of his wing-claws and his left hand glinted in the shadows, and his face was pale through the tangle of dark hair.

"Bucky," Steve breathed. He moved forward one step, then two into the vast open space of warehouse, hands open and wings tight against his back. He swallowed, mouth dry. "Been looking for you."

The words were inane, and trite, and true. So true. Nineteen months without seeing so much as a feather, the only evidence Bucky was still alive the chaos he left behind at sporadic raids of Hydra bases and a flurry of bullets that had saved Steve's hide.

Steve had made it to the middle of the room, still maintaining eye contact with an unmoving Bucky, when Sam pulled open the door. Spreading his wings, Bucky surged upright, gun Steve was pretty sure he wasn't holding a second ago aimed at the door.

Steve didn't move, not to shield Sam from Bucky nor Bucky from Sam. "Don't think this is a good time, Sam."

"Got it," Sam said calmly. "I'll be right outside if either of you need me."

Bucky glared at the door long after it closed, wings still spread and gun still aimed. Steve watched Bucky, studying the tension of his posture, the stance both achingly familiar and alien. Letting it soak in that no matter how changed, Bucky was _there_. Alive.

"Sam's a friend." Steve said finally, when Bucky lowered his arm, gun disappearing back to wherever it came. "And I'm your friend. You— do you know that?"

Bucky broke his staring contest with the door to meet Steve's eyes again. Bucky's head tilted a fraction and his eyes narrowed. Steve tried to read his expression. Memory? Interest? Dislike? The Bucky Steve had known could slide his true feelings behind a impeccable poker face, but Steve knew all his tells; this Bucky's tells had been burned away.

How much did he remember?

Bucky shifted his weight and leapt off the ledge into a controlled fast glide, landing half a wing's length from Steve. He mantled for a moment, then slowly, carefully folded his wings back, tucking wing claws out of sight. His arms were relaxed, hands open at his sides, but the silver arm whirred, then whirred again as the plates shifted.

"You're Steve," Bucky said, his voice a hoarse rumble. The corner of his lips almost lifted. "You were smaller."

"Yeah." Steve swallowed, tears pricking his eyes. "Yeah, I was."

Bucky slowly reached out with his right wing, wing claws flattened, until the tips of his feathers brushed Steve's cheek. "I know you. I _knew_ you, before," Bucky murmured, something like wonder in his voice.

Steve closed his eyes and swallowed hard, nodding. The feathers left his cheek to wisp down his neck and along his shoulder.

"I don't remember everything," Bucky said abruptly, pulling his wing back. "I'm not _him_."

Steve opened his eyes. Bucky met his gaze, chin lowered and forehead furrowed.

"Whoever you are now, you're still my friend." Carefully telegraphing the move, Steve brushed his wing against the edge of Bucky's. Bucky jerked his wing back, then extended it again, tips of his feathers brushing Steve's wing from wing claw to wingtip.

"More guts than sense." Bucky tapped his wing against Steve's head, an echo of a thousand times he'd done it before. "From tiny little spitfire with more guts than sense to big idiot with more guts than sense." This time his lips did tilt into a small smile, crooked and wry. "Think that's what I remember the most."

"Well, I gave you a lot of reason to remember it." Steve blinked rapidly, this time unable to hold back tears. Bucky remembered. Maybe not everything, but enough. A soft feather traced his cheek, wiping the tears away, and Bucky stepped forward, pulling him into a rough hug and enveloping him in soft wings. Steve buried his face in Bucky's hair and closed his eyes, reveling in the heat of Bucky's exhale on his neck.

"I won't let you cage me or clip my wings," Bucky said softly, still not letting go. "No matter who you were to me."

"And I'll stop chasing you if you tell me to." Steve closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of gunpowder and metal and musk, a mix of what Bucky had been and what he was now. If this was all the time Steve was going to get, he would memorize this scent, this heat, this press of body and arms against him. "Just needed to know you were alive. But you have a home with me, if you ever want it."

Bucky pulled back to meet his eyes, but didn't let go. "They—Hydra are on my tail, and they ain't nearly as much fun to dodge as you. Might be more trouble than I'm worth."

"Think I said that to you a dozen times. Never could shake you. And if Hydra tries taking you from me again," Steve's fists tightened against Bucky's arms and his wing claws flexed, twisting to rake an imagined enemy before gently hooking over Bucky's wings, "they'll regret it."

Bucky nods slowly. "Then let's both stop running and go home."

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who is curious, wing designs are similar to pterosaur wings. "Feathers" are actually modified fur which is analogous to bird feathers and function both in a sensory capacity and as a method of heat retention. …I have spent far, far too long considering how the wings evolved, work, and impacted society, considering how little story I've managed to write.
> 
> On Tumblr at chaosandmemory.


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